Worship at the Altar
by alien09
Summary: Tag for 'Abandon All Hope'. Dean was pretty sure that if you were born a Winchester, sacrifice was a prerequisite for carrying the family name.


Dean was pretty sure that if you were born a Winchester, sacrifice was a prerequisite for carrying the family name.

Watching the fire eat away at the picture Bobby had taken before Carthage, seeing the flames curl around Jo's face, Dean felt his heart squeeze.

Wasn't it enough that Dad was dead? That Dean had suffered through hell, tortured and flayed and skinned and broken people? That Sam had gotten supremely screwed over and Dean had thrown it back in his baby brother's face, instead of trying to stomach the truth that Sammy was never going to be _normal_?

That, no matter which way you looked at it, the last of the Winchester line was going to die out pretty fucking soon?

Cradling the beer in his hand, Dean embraced the silence of the creaking old house Bobby had refused to give up after his paralysis. The older man had claimed that if everything was going to the crapper anyways, he wanted to hang on to whatever he had left. Dean could see the frustration etched clearly into the folds of Bobby's face whenever they walked out the door for a hunt. He took a deep drag of draft when he recalled the way Bobby had shouted about ending his sad, miserable life.

There weren't enough people around that Dean cared about anymore, but he'd be damned if he let the closest thing to a father he had off himself.

_You couldn't protect Jo. Those hellhounds came and you froze up._

Tightening his grip on the neck of the glass green bottle, Dean could smell the blood and tears on Jo when he had kissed her goodbye. Dean had felt his throat seize up and the blood in his veins run cold when Jo had told them to be realistic.

_In the end you used her just like a game piece. _

_She wanted to-_

_You're shitting me. What person wants to be fed as chum to hellhounds and wired up to be shrapnel?_

Because for a small, fleeting second Dean had actually felt glad that Sam was still beside him. Ellen had told them in that strong, wavering voice of hers to _go_, to make sure that he didn't miss when found Lucifer. Seeing the two women who had remained as much of a constant as their lives allowed huddled together, one white as a ghost and another with tears in her eyes as she leaned her daughter against her shoulder, Dean wondered what the hell would be left for them if they survived the damn apocalypse.

It didn't matter in the end, the sacrifice Ellen, Jo, Sam and him had made. He'd emptied the Colt straight into Lucifer's skull and seen the ugly son of a bitch resurrect like an extra from the Night of the Living Dead. Dean had watched, transfixed, as the bullet hole stitched together like Wolverine was in front of him. His finger was still on the trigger and he couldn't fire, _couldn't_, because this wasn't supposed to _happen_.

Death was alive and kicking and everything was one step closer to burning.

Spinning the empty bottle around on the wooden table, Dean pondered getting another.

'Dean?'

'Not now Cas,' Dean replied gruffly. Solitude was a hard thing to come by these days and Dean craved it, especially since he could still see Jo floating around like a ghost, looking neither accusing or happy.

The angel remained silent. He blinked and Cas was seated across from him, staring.

'I'm sorry about what happened.'

Dean chuckled sardonically. 'Yeah well. We all gotta sacrifice for the cause right?'

Cas tilted his head; giving him that mild inquisitive the angel always got when he couldn't quite understand what someone was telling him.

'You loved her.'

The words were simple but Dean felt his heart stutter. There was no point lying because Cas was like a walking polygraph.

'I don't know _what _it was.'

_Liar. She understood parts of you that any other woman would run screaming from._

'I see. But she was important to you.'

Dean shrugged.

'She's in a better place Dean.'

Dean felt his blood boil because platitudes and shit like that were _over_.

'Is she? Really? Hell Cas, we can't even find _God_. What makes you think there's even a heaven for Jo or Ellen to go to?'

'We need to believe-'

'_No_,' Dean spat out. 'I'm sick and tired of people telling me that I have to believe. I sure as hell didn't buy it when Whitney and Mariah sang it. I mean look at us man. The Colt isn't going to do jack and it was our trump card. What else do we have now? Huh?'

Cas remained silent.

'We don't even have an army. Angels are going around ganking each other or trying to gank us. Demons are telling us they don't care whether we carve a hole in their boss. I mean _seriously_. What the hell kind of leverage do we have against a guy whose like an STD? Infectious, viral and easily transmitted?'

'Do you want us to do nothing then?' There was the barest hint of anger in Cas's voice.

'Man of course not,' Dean answered, trying hard not to yell. Sam was sleeping upstairs and Dean had noticed the growing bags under his eyes. 'I'm not going down as they guy who started the apocalypse and then sat on his ass about it. I want to look Lucifer in the eye and blow his head off.'

'We can do that.'

Dean eyed Cas as if he had just announced he was going to a strip club.

'What the hell is wrong with you? One of the Four Horseman, called _Death _might I add, is flying around on his big, black stallion and looking for a good massacre. Lucifer didn't even blink when we showed up. He knows we can't end this with what we have.'

'I didn't get cast down from heaven for nothing Dean,' Cas said sternly (but then again, the angel always sounded like he had a stick shoved up his ass so Dean thought he sounded natural).

'Sacrifice right?'

'God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, to prove his faith.'

'So having me kill my brother is some twisted form of homage?'

'In Epistle to the Hebrews, sacrifices were said to be the shadow of good things to come. You may not believe Dean,' Cas sounded as if the words were hard to say out loud. 'but perhaps you can consider that everything that you have forfeited is for a greater cause, a cause that may not offer many rewards but needs to be fulfilled nonetheless. Jesus gave himself up so that all could be saved.'

'I'm sick of being the martyr,' Dean muttered. When Cas didn't reply Dean glanced up and wasn't surprised to see that his friend was gone.

When he opened the door to the room he was sharing with Sam, Dean caught sight of his brother's face. It was smooth, peaceful.

_No way am I letting anything touch Sammy. I'd rather die first._

Perhaps sacrifice was hardwired into the Winchester genetic code, Dean mused humourlessly as he pulled the covers back.

But sometimes, remembering big brown eyes and pale blond curly hair, Dean wished the needs of the many didn't outweigh the needs of the few.


End file.
